Wake in the Dream
by Darthanne
Summary: Past and present merge after Quatre is kidnapped. Can his friends rescue him in time? (3x4, 1x2, 5xR )
1. Chapter One

Wake in the Dream (1?)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – angst, drama, action.

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2, 5xR

Summary: Past and present merge after Quatre is kidnapped. Can his friends rescue him in time?

Archive: http/dryerspace. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Author's notes: This is written for the 10 year anniversary contest at Gundam Wing Universe - http/ to: haraamis and Bast for beta reading, Misanagi and Shadow for prodding for more as I was writing. Plus all those who made comments and encouraged along the way. You know who you are…

Comments to: anne One

/AC 205/

"I'm leaving now, okay? We'll talk when I get home." Quatre hit the off switch on the vid phone before Trowa had a chance to reply. Tonight, of all nights, he shouldn't have been late, but something had come up at WEI that required his personal attention. He frowned, glared at the briefcase on his desk and swore under his breath. No, it wasn't coming home with him. This weekend, he would give Trowa his full attention, take the phone off the hook and relax, at least until their friends arrived on Monday morning.

When he and Trowa had first met, ten years ago, he'd felt the connection between them. He'd known that they shouldn't be fighting, that he could trust the pilot of the other Gundam, but had never dreamt just how much that trust would grow, that they would become friends, lovers and more.

Giving the briefcase a parting glare, Quatre walked out of his office. It was bad enough that he'd have to come in on Monday to sign papers, but at least once they were done he could leave work behind with a clear conscience for the rest of the week. This deal was an important one worth a lot of money, even by WEI standards, but he would not allow it to ruin the time he planned to spend with their friends. After all, it had been a while since he and the other pilots had had the opportunity for quality time together. He sighed. They'd all come a long way in the ten years since the war, and their friendship was very precious to him and to Trowa.

He stopped by the elevator and pushed the button. It was growing dark outside, and the building was almost empty. Two men, part of the cleaning staff, gave him a nod as he stood waiting, and he nodded back. Glancing at his watch, he decided that the elevator was taking too long. A brisk walk down the stairs would help work off his foul mood; he didn't want his day to ruin what was left of the evening.

It only took a few minutes to reach the ground floor, and his car in the parking garage. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, noticing the flat tyre. Hunting around for the tools to change it, he decided not to phone Trowa and let him know that he'd be even later. With any luck this wouldn't take long, and he could make up the time on the road. It had been a while since his last speeding ticket, and besides, they would have to catch him first.

Quatre caught the movement behind him out of the corner of his eye and ducked just as the man lunged towards him. He rolled, the tyre iron still in his hands, and then rose to his feet to take in the situation quickly. There were two men, as well as the one who had attacked him, all well built, holding guns and wearing masks. All routes to the exits were blocked, and he wasn't in the mood to back down from a fight. Shifting his grip on his makeshift weapon, he smiled coldly at them. "If you excuse me, gentlemen, I'm in a hurry, and you're in my way."

The men exchanged a glance, but didn't speak. Instead, they advanced towards him. Quatre sighed. He would have preferred to settle this without violence but if they insisted he really had no choice.

The first man approached. His grip on his gun tightened, but Quatre could feel his nervousness. "Come with us, Mr. Winner," he said, his voice muffled by the mask, "and we won't hurt you."

Quatre snorted. "You're pointing a gun at me." He took a step backwards, keeping his movements slow. "That rather suggests that you plan to use it."

"Which is why you should come with us." The man mirrored Quatre's movement. "Now, now, you don't have to prove anything. Come peacefully, and we won't tell anyone that you didn't put up a struggle. It can be our little secret."

"Don't patronise me," Quatre snapped. "I don't appreciate it." He swung the tyre-iron, and the man went down clutching at his knee and groaning. "I don't like violence," Quatre said conversationally, "but that doesn't mean I won't fight if I'm provoked." Quatre stepped around the man on the ground. The spare tyre was still propped up against the side of his car, the flat beside it. That ruled out the idea of using his car as a means of escape. He would have to do this the hard way.

The remaining men walked up to him. One secured his gun in his belt and reached into his pocket. The other smirked. "If you're so determined to make this difficult, I'm sure we can accommodate your wishes."

"That's your choice," Quatre shrugged.

They moved closer, and he waited, knowing that he would only get one opportunity to escape and that he had better make the best of it.

One step further.

Quatre took a deep breath and threw the tyre-iron at them. They instinctively ducked to either side of the object, and he dived between them.

Hitting the ground, Quatre cursed as his elbow jarred against the concrete. It had been too many years since he'd done this, and he was out of practice. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he rolled with the movement, and came up again in a half crouch, ready to start running. He felt a sharp prick at the side of his neck but ignored it. Someone grabbed at him, but he pushed him away. He had to get to the exit.

He as dimly aware of footsteps behind him, but he kept running. Nearly there. His surroundings spun sickeningly, and he dropped to his knees. No, he had to keep running. Quatre ordered himself to his feet, but his body refused to obey. His hand went to his neck. When it came away there was a tiny tranquiliser dart in his palm.

Trowa put his coffee cup on the counter and frowned. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. Although Quatre had rung and told him that he was on his way, he couldn't ignore the growing feeling of unease.

/Annoyance. Resignation./

What was keeping him? Trowa shook his head, trying to make sense of the empathic echo he was picking up from his husband. Surely Quatre hadn't got another speeding ticket? One day he was going to learn that his car was not a substitute Gundam; Trowa was not looking forward to the day Quatre went that one step too far and lost his licence, and Trowa sure as hell wasn't about to volunteer to act as chauffeur. Doing things for the one you love only went so far.

/Fear. Regret. Guilt./

"Quatre?" Trowa headed for the door on instinct. Something was wrong, very wrong. The thing that worried him the most wasn't the fear, but the guilt. Trowa knew Quatre well enough to recognise that emotion. Quatre usually hid it, knowing how Trowa would react. Quatre took too much on his shoulders, his self-expectations were still unreasonably high, and after one too many arguments between them over his tendency to blame himself, he tended to hide certain reactions maybe a little too well. For it to be so openly projected like that through their empathic link meant that Quatre wasn't in full control of his abilities.

Digging his phone out of his pocket as he ran for his motorbike, Trowa rang Quatre's number, although he didn't expect an answer. Often, Quatre switched it off, or left it on vibrate, so that if he was in an important meeting, it wouldn't disturb him. Trowa had complained once, after trying to get hold of him, but Quatre had reminded him that if Trowa had /needed/ him he'd know. "And then," he had said, with a smile, tracing his fingers across Trowa's lips, "it wouldn't matter what I was doing, I'd be there for you."

"You're not here for me now, Cat," Trowa muttered under his breath after being connected with Quatre's answering service. He didn't bother leaving a message. If Quatre were okay he would have picked up himself. Starting the bike, he roared out into the street. It would be faster that way than taking his car, and he was worried that however quickly he got there, he would be too late.

It didn't take him long to reach Winner Enterprises' main offices. The traffic was light at this time of night, and he'd opened the throttle right up. In different circumstances he would have enjoyed the ride. Quatre wasn't the only one who missed piloting his Gundam, and although they had been fighting a war, in some ways those days had been simpler. He'd had goals, a mission that he didn't dare fail. Trowa hadn't enjoyed the killing or bloodshed any more than Quatre had, but he missed the adrenaline rush, the knowledge that what he was doing was important. Watching Quatre come home from work, tired and frustrated with dealing with those corporate idiots, Trowa was tempted just to spirit them both away somewhere and start a new life. A life where Quatre could be what he wanted to be, rather than driving himself to live up to the ghost of his father's memory.

Had it really been ten years since they had played that first duet? Trowa slowed down as he approached the parking garage. It was something they hadn't done for months now; Quatre was too tired, and Trowa hadn't liked to push the matter, even though he missed it.

Quatre's car was parked in its usual spot, and Trowa pulled up beside it. There was no sign of foul play, and the car did not appear to be tampered with but Quatre was nowhere in sight. Either he hadn't got as far as the car, or whoever was responsible had covered up what had happened. Removing his helmet, Trowa hunted through his key ring for the spare key Quatre had given him, unlocked the car and reached into the glove box to disengage the alarm.

"Hmm," he murmured, frowning, when he noticed it was already off. No one else except for him and Quatre had the password for the device that Duo had designed and installed. Even now, in peacetime, they all tended to be somewhat paranoid about covering their backs. Heero's theory was that it was because no matter how much they pretended they couldn't escape the soldier within. Quatre was of the opinion that it was more a case of peace of mind in knowing they would have an advance warning system for the day when their past would catch up with them. Although they had managed to keep their identities a secret, there was always the possibility that someone had recognised them and was merely waiting for the right moment.

The phone rang. Trowa reached into his pocket and then realised that it wasn't his phone, but Quatre's which was sitting on the dashboard. This was not good. Quatre would have never abandoned his phone. "Barton," he snapped, slipping into the driver's seat as he made a grab for it.

The voice at the other end sounded mechanical, the computer software the person was using removing all traces of inflection. "Check your email, Mr. Barton."

"Who is this?" Trowa glared at the phone, but the call had been terminated. Damn it. It hadn't been long enough to initiate a trace. He climbed out of the car, resetting the alarm out of habit, and taking Quatre's phone with him. Whoever these people were, they were organised; he'd give them that. The call had been made once Trowa had reached the car. Was he being watched?

He needed to get home. If Quatre had been kidnapped or worse, he had no choice but to follow the instructions until he knew what he was dealing with. He just hoped that these people didn't know who and what Quatre was.

It had been a while since Trowa had pushed an engine like this, but the trip home seemed like an eternity even though he was going as fast as he dared without running the risk of wrecking the bike. The phone message kept replaying itself in his head, and although he knew that Quatre was still alive, he suspected that his husband was living on borrowed time.

Who had captured him and why? Was it because of Quatre's position with WEI or had these people discovered his role in the war and were seeking revenge against a Gundam pilot? If it was the former, Quatre's survival rate was better, but Trowa had seen enough during his time working for the Preventers to know just how easy it was for a kidnapping to turn to murder.

Trowa shivered and opened up the throttle even further. The tyres squealed like nails on a chalk board, and he could hear Quatre's voice telling him to be careful. Trowa shook his head. "I'll be careful when I know you're okay," he muttered. One vigil by Quatre's bedside, wondering if he would ever wake up, had been enough. They weren't soldiers any longer. Quatre was supposed to be safe. They weren't in a war zone; they should be allowed the luxury of peacetime. Hadn't they fought enough?

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Quatre's voice was so clear that Trowa looked around for him, the bike teetering dangerously to one side as he shifted his balance. Since when had Quatre taken on the role of Trowa's subconscious? Trowa sighed. It really wasn't like him to lose control like this and give into his imagination. He needed to get a grip on himself. There was too much at stake.

Finally reaching home, Trowa parked the bike, removed his helmet but didn't bother taking off his jacket. He locked the garage door behind him as he wasn't in the mood to be disturbed, and headed upstairs to the study and the computer.

/Fear. Frustration./

"Quatre, where the hell are you?" There was so much he didn't understand about their empathic connection. During the war he'd felt an echo of what Quatre was feeling, but it had only happened when Quatre had needed him, a silent call for help that Quatre wasn't even aware that he'd sent. Since they'd consummated their relationship, their connection had grown, evolved. There was an awareness between them that neither was able to shut off completely.

At the moment Trowa was torn between not wanting to know what Quatre was going through and taking comfort in the knowledge that he could still feel /something/. If the connection between them died, then he'd have to deal with the possibility that maybe Quatre had too.

No wonder he was imagining Quatre's voice. If Quatre was alive still in Trowa's mind, he was still alive in reality. Closing his eyes, Trowa tried to reach for Quatre empathically, but instead of the answering caress he usually felt, there was only darkness, confusion, fear and pain.

He didn't want to feel this. He didn't want to know. Trowa tapped a rhythm on the end of Quatre's desk while he waited for the computer to boot up.

One. Two. Three.

He had a mission. This was a mission, just like all those they had done during the war. It didn't make a difference what the objective was. It shouldn't make a difference. He'd always been able to detach himself from a situation, been able to set his sights straight-ahead. Except where Quatre was concerned.

The computer blinked at him, taunting him. You have six new emails.

Four. Five. Six.

Trowa tapped the rhythm with one hand, using it as a focus for his breathing. The header on the last email was blank, the sender supposedly Quatre although it had been sent within the last few minutes. Text plus a picture. He'd read the text first, then brace himself for the picture.

/Mr. Barton.

We have your husband. He will be returned on Tuesday. You are to carry on as though everything were normal. No one is to know that he is missing. If they do, you will never see him again./

The psychology behind the note was nothing new. Lay the guilt on the victim's loved ones. Make sure that they know that if something happens it does because they did not cooperate. Trowa had no intentions of endangering Quatre, but he also knew that obedience did not guarantee Quatre's safety.

Taking a deep breath, he clicked on the attached photo. It was date stamped and appeared to have been taken less than ten minutes ago. He checked the time of the email, not surprised to see that it had been sent as he arrived home. Tracing the source would no doubt be futile. However, that didn't mean that he wasn't going to test just how good Heero's latest tracking program was.

Forcing himself to examine the photo, Trowa tried to stay calm. Quatre appeared to be okay, although it was difficult to be certain, as he was unconscious. He was still dressed in the suit he'd gone to work in that morning, although his tie had been loosened, and there was a grease mark across the front of his shirt. His jacket had been placed under his head as a makeshift pillow on the mattress upon which he was lying. One shirt sleeve had been rolled up to enable a needle and a drip to be inserted. They were not taking the chance that he might be able to identify them.

Trowa's finger traced the outline of Quatre's face on the screen. It was already too late to ensure his safety. Quatre didn't react well to drugs, especially sedatives. It played havoc with his empathic shielding; and usually deadened the connection between them. But whatever they were using on him, it appeared to be having the opposite effect. Since Quatre had been taken, Trowa's awareness of him had grown, the shielding that Quatre had constructed between them crumbling without his energy to maintain it. This wasn't a peaceful sleep; wherever Quatre had retreated to in his mind, it was not somewhere pleasant.

"I'm coming, Cat," he whispered, turning off the screen. He didn't need the photo in front of him to remember. It would be ingrained in his mind every waking moment until Quatre was safe, and Trowa had no intention of sleeping until that happened.

He reached for the phone, picked up the receiver and entered several numbers. Three clicks told him that the scrambling software Heero had installed for them had been initiated. Trowa hit another switch to turn off the vidscreen and then dialed another number. While he doubted that this enemy would be able to infiltrate their security, he was not about to take any chances.

Heero answered within the first few rings. "Yuy."

"Subdominant diminished." Trowa spoke the code words that Quatre had devised, quickly. In choosing the terminology, Quatre had decided to indulge his musical background, much to Trowa's amusement. But, as Quatre had reminded him, it was too dangerous to directly use their code names from the war. If their identities were ever compromised, and the transmission intercepted, their enemy would recognise the phrase '04' immediately. Quatre had then shrugged and grinned. He was still using '04', just in a different way. After all, the subdominant was the musical term for the fourth degree of a scale.

"Understood." There was a pause before Heero continued. "I'll arrange a performance. Yuy out."

Trowa put down the phone, rose to his feet and cracked his knuckles. One thing that he had learnt from Quatre was that Gundam pilots worked better as a team, even if that team was minus one. Heero and Duo would be here by morning and Wufei and Relena soon afterwards.

He just hoped that Quatre could afford to wait that long.

End of Chapter One

TBC


	2. Chapter Two

Wake in the Dream (2?)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – angst, drama, action.

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2, 5xR

Summary: Past and present merge after Quatre is kidnapped. Can his friends rescue him in time?

Archive: http/dryerspace. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Author's notes: This is written for the 10 year anniversary contest at Gundam Wing Universe - http/ to: haraamis and Bast for beta reading, Misanagi and Shadow for prodding for more as I was writing. Plus all those who made comments and encouraged along the way. You know who you are…

Comments to: anne Two

"Quatre, where are you?" Someone was calling him. The voice sounded familiar. "Quatre?"

Quatre tried to focus, but his thoughts were jumbled, his body refusing to obey. He forced his eyes open, but all he could see was darkness. All he could feel was the cold.

He needed to be somewhere. There was something important he was supposed to do. Damn this cotton feeling in his head, he was stronger than this. Stronger than whatever had him in its grasp. He had to fight it. Had to fight. Had to…

Feeling himself drowning in the darkness, he struggled against it. He didn't want to live in darkness, didn't want to be alone.

"Trowa, where are you?" Reaching out, Quatre desperately tried to find some sign of Trowa's presence, something to anchor himself onto. Images flashed, too fast to see. Backwards, he was going backwards. He closed his eyes, reasoning that he had a better chance at success without the distraction.

A voice broke his concentration. "We shouldn't be fighting."

It was his own.

Eyes snapping open, Quatre was momentarily disorientated. He was standing on Sandrock in front of the open cockpit door, and Trowa was standing before him, framed against Heavyarms, his hands raised in surrender. Quatre frowned. This wasn't right, Trowa didn't look like he was supposed to. He was too young. This had already happened. What the hell was going on?

He heard himself answer. "Lower your hands. I was the one who surrendered, remember?"

Remember. He had to remember.

"Tro, are you okay?'

Trowa looked up into Duo's concerned eyes. "What?" he asked, momentarily confused. How could he have lost concentration like that? "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." Duo never had taken no for an answer. "Look, I know you're worried about Quatre. We all are." Duo exchanged a glance with Heero. They'd arrived that morning, and after Heero had done a sweep of the house for listening devices, Trowa had briefed them on the situation.

"I'm fine," repeated Trowa, in a tone that meant he wasn't in the mood to argue. "I'm just cold, that's all."

"Turn the heating up, then." Heero returned his attention to the computer screen, ignoring the glare Duo was giving his back.

"I appreciate you coming," Trowa said quietly. Wufei had sent word that he and Relena would be arriving in the early evening. They'd had further to come than Heero and Duo, as Relena had been involved in political negotiations on Earth. Apparently, she and Wufei's arguments about her workload were being fueled by her advancing pregnancy. Relena kept reminding her husband that she was pregnant, not ill, and he in turn, would snort and tell her that it was fortunate that she had him to look after her, because she wasn't doing a very good job of it herself.

"Hey, like we wouldn't?" Duo's expression changed, and his tone turned very cold. "If these assholes harm Quatre in any way, they're going to wish they'd never been born, and then some. Hell's going to be too good for them." He blinked, and then gave Trowa a smile, which, if he hadn't already been cold, would have sent a shiver through him. "No one fucks around with my friends or family, and you guys are family."

"Hmm, that's interesting." Heero tapped the mouse a few times and then pointed to something on the screen.

"What?" Trowa moved over to the computer and leaned over Heero's shoulder. Trowa had fallen asleep the night after going over every inch of the photo. He had been woken by the click of the front door opening, to find himself slumped over the keyboard, and had greeted his friends over the barrel of his gun.

Heero gestured towards the screen again. When he spoke he sounded annoyed. "I can't believe I missed this," he muttered.

"Missed what?" Duo asked. "C'mon baby, we don't have time for twenty questions here."

"I'm well aware of that," Heero replied. He zoomed in so that they were looking at a close-up of Quatre's arm. "See there?"

"It's Quatre's arm." Trowa said dryly. "I do know what his arm looks like, Heero."

"And a few other things," Duo finished, a little too brightly. "Okay, so what's so important about his arm."

"He's cold." Heero looked smug. He shifted the cursor to prove his point. Quatre's skin was covered in goosebumps, fine blond hairs standing up on end. Quatre had always been sensitive to the cold.

"So?" Trowa was losing patience. "That doesn't prove anything."

"L4's temperature controls are carefully regulated to give the illusion of a dry, hot climate at this time of year." Heero raised an eyebrow. "Yet you are wearing a sweater and complaining of the cold."

"It /is/ cold." Trowa really couldn't see where Heero was going with this line of reasoning.

Duo coughed. "No, it's not, Tro. You and Quatre are cold. I'm frying here, but as I'm a polite kind of guy, and you're worried about your man, I haven't said anything."

"Oh." Trowa couldn't think of anything more eloquent to say. "But why would I be cold if…" His voice trailed off. Drugs had always affected his and Quatre's empathic connection. Could whatever Quatre have been given be accentuating their link to the degree that Trowa could be getting an echo of what Quatre was feeling physically as well? He shook his head. It sounded too much like something out of a science fiction novel. But yet, it was the only thing that made sense.

"Cat's empathy is something I've never understood," Duo said. "But I've heard and seen enough to believe in it, especially since the two of you hooked up." He shrugged. "Hey, if it helps us find him, it's all good, right?"

"Right," repeated Heero, although Trowa wasn't sure he was agreeing with Duo or repeating what had been said. "News bulletins." Heero opened the L4 digital newspaper in another window and began to scan. "I knew I'd seen it somewhere," he said, smugly.

"What?" asked Trowa.

"One of the climate control grids has been malfunctioning, sending a section of the city into premature winter." Heero seemed very pleased with himself. "I remembered reading about it on the flight here. If Quatre is being kept where they are experiencing the colder temperatures, it would explain…."

"Why you're both cold," Duo finished.

Heero glared at him. "I /was/ about to explain that," he muttered.

"Sorry," said Duo, a little too gleefully. "So, now that we know where Quatre is, we can go kick butt, hmm?"

"When we find out where Quatre is," Heero corrected. "It's going to take a few hours of research to pin his location down more accurately, and even then, we'll have to search a good sized area. I suggest we wait for Wufei and Relena to arrive, and enlist their help."

"I'm not sure Quatre can wait that long," Trowa pointed out. He shivered and shook his head. "He's very agitated, and I'm getting colder." Although he agreed that Heero's theory was sound, he wasn't sure that the coldness he was feeling was completely the result of faulty temperature controls. He remembered the time he had spent floating in space following the ZERO incident, how he had come close to death, the darkness trying to claim him, taunting him, inviting him to give in and let it win. If Quatre was in such a place, he didn't want to wait. He didn't think that Quatre had the luxury of waiting.

"If we move too soon, we place him in greater danger," Heero reminded him. "If the kidnappers discover that you've brought us in, they will kill him."

"They'll probably kill him anyway," Trowa muttered.

"Tro's right, Heero." Duo shook his head. "There's no way of knowing what these assholes will do."

"For the moment, he's alive." Heero's voice softened. "You're reacting, rather than thinking, Trowa. Both of you are. I know you're worried about Quatre. I am too. He's my friend, but we are only going to get one chance at this, and it has to be done right." He glanced at his watch. "Wufei and Relena will be here in three hours, and we can be ready to move in four."

Duo nodded. "Cat always said that we work better as a team."

"That's because we do," Heero agreed. "It took me a long time to admit that, but he was right."

"So we wait for the last members of our team to arrive," Trowa conceded.

"Correct. Wufei will accompany us, and Relena is more than capable of running communications for the mission from here where it's safe." Heero gave Trowa a tiny smile. "We'll get him back, Trowa." The smile faded completely. "And once he's safe, we will teach these kidnappers the consequences of attempting to take out one of our own."

What was this place? It looked familiar. Quatre glanced down at the phone in his hand, trying to repress a shiver. He looked around, already knowing who was there. Trowa was not happy to see him; Quatre could feel the other pilot's displeasure.

He opened his mouth, intending to ask Trowa if he knew what was going on, what they were both doing here, but what came out was something different. "Hi. So we meet again." Quatre cringed at the greeting. He'd chastised himself for it afterwards then too; hearing it again didn't make it sound any less corny.

"I'm working alone." Trowa's voice was cold.

What the hell? This had to be some kind of dream. Didn't it? Quatre tried to shake his head but couldn't. It was as though he was trapped in his past, a bystander watching everything that had happened, unable to stop history repeating itself.

"So am I." Quatre paused. His younger self refused to cooperate. "It would be better if we worked together."

Trowa had mellowed over the past few years. He could still be as stubborn as hell when he set his mind to it, but Quatre had learnt had to work around that, and for the most part they discussed things that affected both of them.

His vision blurred, and he was dimly aware of voices in the distance. "Are you sure you've given him enough of the drug?"

Drug? What drug?

He was lying on something soft. Where was Trowa? What had happened to the Gundams they had been loading onto the ship? Quatre struggled to pull himself into a sitting position but strong hands held him down. He lashed out, heard someone curse. Opened his eyes, but was unable to focus. The darkness beckoned again.

"Let go of me," he yelled. "Let go…"

He opened his eyes again, but everything was different. "Trowa, they look like us." Wing and Deathscythe were in the distance; Heero and Duo were fighting the OZ troops, two outnumbered against god knew how many. Quatre glanced around for Wufei and then remembered that he hadn't arrived at New Edwards until later.

It had been too late to stop the bloodshed, too late. It had been a trap, the bait too tempting. And they had taken it, devoured it. Killed those who would have brought peace, those who could have written history the way it should have been.

"If they get in my way, I'll destroy them." Trowa wasn't listening. He and Duo were fighting. Gundam against Gundam instead of working together. Fighting. Why were they fighting? Didn't they realise how important it was to work together? Division could be used against them. Five could achieve more than one. If only he had been able to persuade them to work together sooner, so many could have been saved.

Heero was heading towards the shuttle. Quatre clenched his fists, knowing what was coming. "No, Heero. Stop! It's a mistake." He wouldn't let this happen again. He couldn't.

"Heero. No!" Why wouldn't Sandrock obey him? Why wasn't Heero listening? No one could hear him. He was screaming, but the one who needed to hear him couldn't.

Present and past blurred together, and Quatre wasn't sure which was real. "I need to stop him before he destroys the shuttle." He struggled against the hands holding him down, holding him back from what he had to do.

The shuttle was gone. Marshal Noventa was dead, and the Alliance pacifists along with him. Quatre could hear Wufei telling them how they'd been tricked, used as pawns to further Treize Khushrenada's plans for OZ, but he didn't need the reminder. Experiencing it once had been horrific, twice was a nightmare he couldn't break free of.

Sally's announcement added to the nightmare of memories. "The missile self-destruct system has been activated!"

Data scrolled quickly across Quatre's viewscreen. He looked at it, but already knew what it said. This at least had been something they'd managed to get right, something salvaged from the mistake that had sent everything into a downward spiral. "I've confirmed it," he repeated his lines from the past, an actor reliving a part even as the curtain began to fall. "There are forty seven high-yield nuclear warheads at New Edwards. If all of them go off at the same time, everything in a 180 mile radius will be destroyed."

They had less than ten minutes to get clear. It wasn't enough time. Their only option was to stop the detonation.

"There's less than ten percent chance he'll succeed," Quatre told Duo. "We're going to need carriers to escape with our Gundams. We're almost out of fuel."

"Are you always this optimistic?" Duo asked.

It wasn't a choice. Quatre couldn't afford to give into the darkness or lose hope. Once he did that he'd give into a part of himself he couldn't face. The shadow couldn't be allowed to dominate, couldn't be given control.

He heard himself talk Heero through the sequence needed to disarm the device. Heero could do this. Heero had done this. Quatre let out the breath he'd been holding.

And jerked against Sandrock's restraints as the Gundam fell. His body was on fire, he ached all over, but he forced himself back into the battle. "Come on, Sandrock, stand up! It's too soon to be defeated." They had to fight so that the other pilots would see them, would get the message that he and Duo were trying to send. Getting back into space, continuing the fight; that was what mattered.

Mobile suit file rocked the Singapore Spaceport. He and Duo were losing.

Deathscythe fell.

Duo cursed.

In the background the news cast from Space Colony Area D continued. "If the Gundams consider OZ an enemy, we consider them ours!"

Quatre gritted his teeth against the pain, although it was harder to shield himself against this betrayal. Why couldn't they see that the peace OZ was promoting was false? Once the colonies had been lulled into a sense of security they would fall, and he couldn't allow that to happen.

"The ones who are right have to be strong." Wufei's words repeated in Quatre's mind. They had to be strong. They were fighting for what was right.

Weren't they?

He couldn't allow himself to doubt. "I fight to protect those I love." Quatre could remember telling Duo that, but he couldn't recall when. Confusion chased pain and Quatre frowned. Something had happened after this, something important that had changed everything.

Anguish, pain, loss of control. "Trowa!"

No! Not now. Not yet. Later. Quatre choked back his tears. He wasn't going to relive that. He wouldn't. This wasn't real. It was a dream, a nightmare from his past. He'd put it behind him with Trowa's help. Trowa had forgiven him. Why the hell couldn't he forgive himself?

Focus on the now. If he could get through this part of his past, there was a chance that he might escape it and return to his present.

"Trowa, where are you?" Quatre knew he'd called out loud, but he wasn't sure in which reality. Past and present were merging, as were his memories. It was like watching a split screen television, being aware of both, but drawn to either one or the other. He was drowning, losing himself, unable to break free. "I'll back you up until you lift off," he told Duo and Wufei.

Duo screamed Quatre's name, but Quatre ignored him. It was better that two Gundams survive than none.

Sandrock was taking the brunt of the fire from the OZ suits now. Quatre gripped the controls and wiped sweat soaked hair from his face. "I can't take this much longer." The Gundam's defenses were weakening. Duo and Wufei needed more time.

Self-destruction was the only option. "I'm sorry," Quatre whispered. The action felt like a betrayal of a friend, and would also mean the loss of his own life, but it was a sacrifice he had always known might happen when he had entered this fight. Quickly, Quatre set the controls, ignoring the coldness in his heart as the warning alarms sounded around him.

Sandrock's cockpit door opened. "Are you telling me to get off?" Quatre asked. Sandrock had always protected him; they were a team just as he and the other pilots were meant to be a team.

Quatre lowered himself from the Gundam, wincing as he hit the ground but knowing he didn't have time to tend to his injuries. His priority was getting to the shuttle. He stumbled, fighting the blackness around the edge of his vision. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and opened them again.

The room swam. He tried to swing his legs over the bed, to struggle to his feet but hands held him down. "Let go of me. I have to get to…."

Quatre slumped back onto the mattress. Where was he going? What was he doing? The taste and smell of death made him gag. He closed his eyes again, trying to steady himself, anchor himself. A tendril of something brushed his mind. He reached for it, but it faded again, lost in the battering of emotion his mind was fighting.

Another explosion rocked the shuttle, and Quatre strapped himself in, the restraints firm against his chest. He couldn't move, but instead of the sense of security that usually gave, he couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness.

Forcing himself to concentrate on what he needed to do, Quatre reached for the controls. His vision blurred again, the controls fading to the dirty white of a ceiling and back again. He had to stay conscious if he was going to survive this.

"Fucking hell. He's a Gundam pilot."

What the? Where was he? The light was fading, the blackness taking over. This wasn't real. He had to get out of here. Had to get out of here.

His vision faded to red, Sandrock's explosion taking what was left of the spaceport with it. Quatre slumped, unable to fight anymore, and let the darkness win.

End of Chapter Two

TBC


	3. Chapter Three

Wake in the Dream (3/5)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – angst, drama, action.

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2, 5xR

Summary: Past and present merge after Quatre is kidnapped. Can his friends rescue him in time?

Archive: http/dryerspace. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Author's notes: This is written for the 10 year anniversary contest at Gundam Wing Universe - http/ to: haraamis and Bast for beta reading, Misanagi for prodding for more as I was writing. Plus all those who made comments and encouraged along the way. You know who you are…

Comments to: anne Three

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, Trowa?" Relena placed a hand on his shoulder, and he managed to give her a smile.

"I should be asking you that," he replied. She looked tired, although she had insisted that she wasn't. Wufei glanced over at them, a resigned look on his face, and then continued talking to Heero and Duo.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Although Wufei seems to think I'm crippled, not pregnant." Relena smiled. "Quatre will be okay, we'll find him."

"We have to," Trowa said, grimly. The room spun momentarily and his stomach heaved. "Excuse me a moment, will you?" He wasn't about to alarm her, or the others. The empathic echoes had been growing stronger over the past few hours and were getting more difficult to ignore.

He barely made it to the bathroom in time before losing the contents of his stomach. "Quatre, where are you?" he whispered. Kneeling on the floor, bending over the toilet bowl, he closed his eyes and attempted to focus on his husband, trying to get a sense of him, any sense of him. For a brief moment Trowa thought he felt something or someone reaching out to him. He tried to grasp it, make a connection, but it disappeared again, sucked into a whirlpool he knew he'd never break free of if he dared follow.

Damn it! Quatre had always talked of experimenting further with their connection, but they had never managed to find the time.

Trowa forced himself to his feet, filled the wash basin with cold water and washed his face, hoping it would help to hide the way he was feeling. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he noticed his eyes were red from lack of sleep. He had always prided himself in being able to hide his emotions and get on with the job, but this time it wasn't working.

"Trowa? Are you okay in there, buddy?" Duo banged on the bathroom door. "If you're not out in a few minutes I'm coming in."

Sighing, Trowa opened the door. "I'm fine, Duo."

"You don't look like it." Duo shoved him back into the bathroom and then shut the door. "Now, give," he said. "There's just us, so if there's something needed to be said, say it."

"I'm fine," Trowa repeated, giving him a glare.

"That's a load of crap, Tro, and you know it." Duo shook his head. "You're not fine, and if I let anything happen to you, Cat would kick my ass. You looked like you were about to pass out in there. What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing." Trowa tried to push past him, but Duo stood in front of the door and refused to move.

"You wouldn't be the first guy to puke his guts up under stress." Duo sighed. "I'm worried about him too, and I know how close you two are."

Trowa's shoulders sagged. "I can feel him, Duo. He's hurting, and I can't do a damn thing about it."

"Feel it?" Duo frowned. "Just how much /are/ you feeling?" He gave Trowa a look that said that he wasn't prepared to listen to anything less than the truth. "What else haven't you told us?"

"It's going to sound crazy but," Trowa didn't have the energy to argue with Duo, "this coldness, it's not just climate related. At least I don't think it is." He leaned back against the wall, using the action to hide his own agitation. "And I've felt it before."

Duo's eyes narrowed. "When?"

"During the war. When I was floating in space after ZERO." Trowa licked his lips; they were dry. "At Quatre's bedside after Libra, when I thought I'd lost him. He's in trouble, Duo, and I think we're running out of time. Whatever these bastards are doing to him, he's stuck somewhere cold and dark, and I'm not sure he's going to find his way back." He swallowed. "I don't want to lose him. I can't lose him."

"Shit." Duo was silent for a moment. "Cat's strong. He knows you're looking for him. He'll hang in there, I know he will." He closed the distance between them, gave Trowa a quick hug and then headed for the bathroom door before Trowa had a chance to react. "Mission briefing in five minutes."

"I'll be there."

Quatre's breathing was ragged. "Someone has to fight or the war won't end," he muttered. "Father, why won't you listen to me?"

Sandrock was gone. Destroyed because of his incompetence. He wasn't fighting to gain recognition. He was fighting for the people. Why couldn't they see that? The Gundams weren't their enemy. His family wasn't their enemy.

He groaned aloud, wishing he could stop this. "Father, please don't. Please." Tears flowed down his face, he tried to wipe them, to hide them, but something or someone was holding him down. No! He had to appear strong, had to hide his weaknesses, or they could be used against him.

"Quatre, promise me you won't fight in those mobile suits. Aggression is not the answer."

It was a promise he couldn't make. Would never be able to make. Sitting back and watching others die as he did nothing was not an option.

Running away doesn't solve anything. Why couldn't his father see that?

The satellite disconnected, his father was ignoring Quatre's pleas. The colony aimed the beam cannons and readied them to fire. Quatre willed the shuttle to get there faster, ignored the fear Iria was trying to hide.

"Father!" No! His father couldn't do this. Parents weren't supposed to die. Parents weren't supposed to make mistakes. The Winners had always put the colonies first and their own needs second. What gave the colonists the right to do this? They had no right. No right.

"No!" The explosion rocked the shuttle. Quatre screamed his father's name again. His world spun, shattered. It hurt. Stop the pain. Someone stop the pain.

He was falling, unable to stop his descent. Iria, where was Iria?

"You're a kind person, Quatre," she told him. "Father was too." That kindness had brought death, had been repaid by death. There was blood all around him, all around him.

"Iria, be all right. Please be all right." He couldn't lose her as well, couldn't lose both of them.

Her eyes closed; they were filled with tears. He cradled her, willing her to stay with him. She had saved him, why couldn't he save her?

The darkness beckoned. Death a temptation he wasn't sure he could resist. Something snapped inside of him, and he screamed. He could never forget this. It haunted him, drove him. And if he wasn't able to forget, why should anyone else?

It was wrong all wrong. He had to fight this.

He didn't want to fight this.

Quatre heard himself laugh. Tried to stop and couldn't. Embrace the darkness. Embrace it and let it win. It would be easier that way. It was time to stop running, time to start fighting back.

No! It's wrong.

But it was what he wanted. What he needed.

Quatre cried out, screamed for the one person who might be able to help him, and when Trowa didn't answer, went limp against his restraints.

"I've narrowed the area down to this block." Heero indicated the map spread out on Quatre's desk. "If we split into two teams, we should be able to search building by building fairly quickly." He gave Relena a nod. "Are you okay with running communications for this?"

She nodded. "I want to help anyway I can. I just wish there was more I could do."

"It will be safer here too," Wufei interrupted. He had been watching her closely ever since their arrival. In any other situation, it would have been amusing to see him so overprotective. "If we're compromised you are to cut communications immediately and phone that number I gave you."

"Okay," Relena said. "Just make sure you're careful. Our baby needs his father and uncles." Her mouth twisted into a sad smile, her hand resting on her stomach. "All his uncles."

"Someone needs to show the kid how to play a mean hand of poker," Duo agreed, ignoring the glare Wufei shot his way. "And Cat's the guy for that."

"I'm going to ignore that comment," Wufei said. "You're worried about Quatre, and it's affecting your sense of judgement and self-preservation. Just make sure you remind those senses to come home when this is over."

Duo stared at him for a moment, then grinned. "Right." He leaned over Heero's shoulder. The other man was frowning. "What is it?"

"I think I might have something regarding the identities of Quatre's kidnappers." Heero looked rather smug.

"They have to pay," Trowa said, surprised at the vengeance in his words. "It's time to stop running and fight back." He glanced down at his hands. They were shaking.

"Trowa, are you okay?" Duo was beside him in an instant.

Trowa laughed, it was a sound that scared him. "They can't be allowed to forget." He put his head in his hands. He had to focus. This wasn't him. Quatre was calling him, but he couldn't follow. He knew this darkness. Last time, a light had beckoned him, this time that same light was tempting him into Quatre's own personal hell.

"Tro?" Duo shook his friend by the shoulders.

"What?" Trowa glanced around the room, saw his friends' concerned faces. He shivered. "It's cold," he complained. "Cold and dark. Can't you feel it?"

"Breathe, Trowa." Wufei stood on Trowa's other side. "Breath slowly and focus on where you are." He muttered something under his breath. "Breath out the dark and the cold. Breath in light and warmth."

The pain eased, the fear chasing it, two tendrils intertwining to vanish as though a switch had been flipped. Trowa went limp, leaning on his friends for support.

"Quatre," he whispered, mourning the loss, but at the same time hating himself for the relief he felt in no longer being able to sense his partner.

What the hell had happened to their connection? Nothing had ever done this before. Usually they felt echoes of what the other was feeling but this was intense and disturbing. He needed to dampen it somehow, keep his composure, or he would be a hindrance to this mission and place Quatre in even more danger.

"I think we might have a problem." Heero always did have a talent for stating the obvious. "Trowa, you need to see this." He was glaring at the computer screen.

"Give him a moment," Duo said.

"I'm not sure we have the luxury of waiting." Wufei shook his head. "If what Trowa is experiencing is connected to Quatre's well-being, and only an echo of what he is feeling, imagine what Quatre must be going through."

"Since when did you become Mr. Expert on this whole empathic shit," Duo wanted to know.

"Quatre and I have been discussing it for some years now," Wufei admitted. "I'm curious to know more so I've been researching the subject. I thought it might be advantageous to both of them, especially considering they lack the time and inclination to do more with it."

"Whenever I mentioned it, it was never the right time, or Quatre was tired or busy," Trowa recalled.

"Or unable to admit his nervousness in delving into it further," Wufei said quietly. "It wasn't a side of himself he saw as an asset but rather as a weakness."

Trowa shook his head. "But Quatre also talked about experimenting with it."

"Talking is not the risk, action is," Wufei continued. "I suspect a part of him did want to do more with it, but he has issues with loss of control."

Trowa nodded slowly. "I know that." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "It appears that he's talked to you about things he didn't feel comfortable sharing with me. His empathy is something we both share." Trowa couldn't continue the thought aloud. /How can he consider something we share a weakness/

"The thought of unintentionally hurting someone he loved, because you do share it, might have been part of his fear," Relena said gently. "Now isn't the time to talk about this."

Trowa nodded, but wasn't convinced. He and Quatre needed to talk; there were too many issues they had been avoiding lately. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

"Relena's right," Heero said. "Now isn't the time to talk about this." He pointed to the screen. "There is a good chance that these people are the ones who have Quatre."

"Oh?" The discussion with Wufei shoved aside, Trowa read over Heero's shoulder quickly. "Fuck," he cursed, reading further. He was going to kill these bastards. No, death was too good for them.

Duo coughed behind them. "Mind sharing with the rest of the class, guys?"

"There was a break in at a local pharmaceutical laboratory four days ago." Heero's voice was a lot calmer than Trowa's would have been. "Drugs used for long term sedation were taken, and the equipment required to administer them." He paused.

"But?" Duo scowled. "I know there's a but. You never pause when you're relaying information unless there's a but."

"But," Heero continued, "the news article does not give the complete story. That I discovered from reading their classified files."

"Better to get the information from the horses' mouth," Duo nodded.

"Do you want me to continue or not?" Heero glared at him and continued without waiting for an answer. "The drugs stolen were experimental. This organisation has been conducting unauthorised research into effects of sedation on newtypes. These drugs, instead of dampening a newtype's ability, enhances it."

"So you think they've kidnapped Quatre because he's a newtype?" Duo clenched his fists.

"No," Heero shook his head. "Why steal their own drugs and equipment? Those responsible were after sedatives and got more than they anticipated. I doubt they are even aware of what they have or the effect it is having on Quatre."

"No one knows that he is empathic," Trowa confirmed. "He's always been very careful to hide his ability and has only trusted a few with the knowledge. Even of his sisters, only Iria and Alimah knew."

"I've managed to access the security tapes for the time period of the robbery." Three faces appeared on the screen. "The tapes were tampered with so that they played in a loop and didn't capture what really happened, but with the right program it wasn't difficult to recover the information. I'm surprised Reaper Industries didn't think of it themselves."

"Maybe they decided that exposing their own activities wasn't worth the risk," Wufei said. "After all, the chance of these idiots using the drugs on a newtype was extremely slim. If the person in question isn't a newtype I presume that there are no side effects?"

"That's correct," Heero confirmed. "Or at least according to their research to date."

"Hold up," Duo said. "So who the hell has Quatre and why have they kidnapped him?" He peered at the screen. "I've seen these guys somewhere before, I'm sure of it."

It was Relena who answered. "There were several articles on their organisation in the papers a few months ago. Their identities were withheld but," she glanced at Heero, "when you have friends with useful skills that isn't a problem. Wufei was working on the case at the time, and I seem to recall Heero sending this information to all of you. I requested a copy because their objections threatened to destroy a project Quatre and I were working on together. When they disappeared it never occurred to me that they would target him directly."

"Gundanium can be used for other things besides building Gundams," Heero continued. "Winner Enterprises is negotiating with a company on Earth who wishes to use it for building, to improve standards of living and resolve certain safety issues in certain areas where, until now, nothing has been available to do the job. These people do not wish to see Earth and the colonies cooperating. They do not trust those from Earth and believe that the authorities on Earth will use the gundanium to build weapons to use against the colonists."

Duo snorted. "That whole them and us mindset is so out of date. We've been at peace for years now."

"It's still a very fragile peace, Duo," Relena said sadly. "People like this are the very ones who could put us back where we were when the Gundams were originally sent to Earth. These negotiations were very important, and not just because they would be worth a great deal to WEI. The money was the least of Quatre's concern."

"Yeah, I remember them now." Duo rolled his eyes. "They wanted to erect monuments to the Gundams, demanded to know our identities so that they could honour us properly. We fought so that others didn't have to, not to further the ideals of idiots like this." He stopped. "Oh shit. What if these guys find out Cat's a Gundam pilot?"

"I doubt they'll react well." Wufei placed an arm around Relena to comfort her as he spoke. "In their minds he would have betrayed them, sold them out to those he fought against. I can see them wanting to make an example of him at the very least."

"That's not going to happen," Trowa said. He couldn't bring himself to consider the possibility. "We need to move now. Quatre's running out of time. Theories are great, but they aren't going to save him."

"It's no wonder these files were encrypted," Heero said grimly, his brow furrowing as he scrolled down the page. His voice was flat, as though he was trying to distance himself emotionally from the information in front of him. "Reaper Industries have experimented before, but those experiments were put on hold after the subjects died. Apparently the strain on the nervous system becomes too great after a short time. To put it bluntly, those who took them reported enhanced abilities, but the cost was too high. Their bodies couldn't cope and began to shut down after thirty six hours. Some even sooner."

"Thirty six hours?" Trowa stared at him, his words coming out in little more than a whisper.

"Yes," said Heero. "We may already be too late."

End of Chapter Three

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Wake in the Dream (4/5)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – angst, drama, action.

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2, 5xR

Summary: Past and present merge after Quatre is kidnapped. Can his friends rescue him in time?

Archive: http/dryerspace dot fanworkrecs dot com

Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Author's notes: This is written for the 10 year anniversary contest at Gundam Wing Universe -

Thanks to: haraamis and Bast for beta reading, Misanagi for prodding for more as I was writing. Plus all those who made comments and encouraged along the way. You know who you are…

Comments to: anne at fanworkrecs dot com

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Chapter Four

"A natural resource satellite at point 07U1 has disappeared." Quatre snorted as he intercepted the transmission. They had attacked him first. Those with weapons had to be destroyed. It was the only way to get rid of the madness in outer space. No one would be safe until the weapons were gone. It was for their own good. He couldn't allow what had happened to his father to happen to anyone else.

The colonists were arming themselves. Couldn't they see that that was wrong? Death would only bring more death. He had warned them that there was no sense in retaliating. He had told them to evacuate. But they hadn't listened. No one was listening. He would have to use the Gundam to show them they were wrong.

Those who attacked him were his enemies. Those colonies had been his enemies. That was why the people on them had died.

Quatre felt unusually calm. Outer space was quiet, too quiet. He needed to hear his own thoughts, needed to justify his actions. Why did he need to justify his actions? What he was doing was right. There was no peace in space anymore. Only war.

This colony hadn't listened either. Beam cannons began firing at his Gundam. He dodged them easily. Words were not going to work. Words were not the way to end this conflict. The mobile suits attacked. He fired on them, wiping them out. "If you're afraid of dying, you shouldn't be fighting in the first place," he told them.

The colony was destroyed all too easily. This new Gundam was very much in tune with his needs. He could see his goals, set his strategies and follow through with little to no opposition.

Why then were there tears in his eyes? He wasn't sad. Not at all.

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"01 here. This building is clear. 02 and I are moving onto the next one." Heero's voice sounded in Trowa's earpiece.

"Roger that, 01," Relena said. "05? Have you and 03 had any success?"

"Not as yet," Wufei replied. His voice softened. "Keep radio silence unless necessary."

"Be careful," Relena whispered. Trowa could imagine her sitting at his and Quatre's apartment, carefully marking off the buildings on the map.

He moved cautiously, keeping to the shadows, Wufei doing the same. Trowa signaled to Wufei and they entered the next building. It was growing dark, but the fading artificial dusk of the colony illuminated it enough so that they didn't have to resort to torchlight.

The gun felt cool against his skin; he was breathing more heavily than he would have normally done on a mission, but he felt calm, calmer than he had since Quatre had disappeared. Everything was going according to plan. He and the others would achieve their objective shortly and show the kidnappers how enemies were dealt with. Quatre had been attacked; therefore those men were Trowa's enemies.

If they didn't want to die they shouldn't be fighting.

"Are you okay?" Wufei hissed.

"I'm fine." Trowa checked the next room. It was clear. The rest of the building would be clear too. They hadn't arrived at their correct destination yet. The civilians had evacuated this area long ago. Old apartment buildings haunted by memories of happier times, but now merely shadows on the outskirts of a since abandoned warehouse district. This part of L4 was sadly neglected, forgotten and shoved aside while its former inhabitants attempted to move forward and put their past behind them. "This building's clear too." Trowa transmitted the information to Relena.

"Roger, 03," she replied. "Next target is 500 metres to your left."

"Thank you, control." Trowa adjusted his earpiece to cut the connection.

Wufei was watching him. "We haven't finished searching the rest of the building." He frowned. "Can you sense him?"

"I don't know," Trowa admitted. "Something's there, but it doesn't feel right. It's not Quatre and yet it is." He paused at the open doorway, closed his eyes and focused on Quatre. He pointed in the opposite direction to the one Relena had specified. "There's something in that direction, I can feel it pulling, but I'm not sure." Trowa frowned and wiped at his eyes. They were wet.

"It's starting to rain," Wufei said, putting out his hand. He spoke into his radio. "05 to control. What is the location of our next target?"

"Is the previous one clear?" Relena sounded surprised. "Surely you haven't had enough time to…"

Wufei cut her off. "Just answer the question."

"600 metres to your right." Relena snorted. "Manners are important too, dear."

"So you keep telling me," Wufei said dryly. "Change of plan. We're changing the order of the targets. Tell 01 and 02 to meet us there. When you have, maintain radio silence until my order. Understood?"

"Understood."

"05 out." Wufei turned to Trowa. "Whatever happens, you need to stay in control."

"I'm not a liability to this mission." Trowa leaned against the doorframe and re-checked his weapons. As well as his gun, he had throwing knives in his belt and in his boots. The objective of the mission was clear in his mind. He didn't intend to fail.

The gentle spits of rain were beginning to give way to heavy drops.

"Just our luck that they haven't fixed the climate controls in this sector yet," Wufei muttered. "The closer we get to Quatre, the more difficult it will be for you to control the echo you're receiving from him. The breathing exercises should help you to focus."

"I am focused," Trowa said. He felt strangely optimistic. Quatre was in that building. Everything would be okay.

He stepped out into the storm. The dusk turned to night, plunging them into darkness. Trowa began moving quickly, knowing that Wufei would follow him.

Heero and Duo joined them a few moments later. "There's something not right about this," Heero said.

"Yeah well, that's what we're here for." Duo was holding his gun in both hands. "I, for one, am looking forward to kicking some ass."

"Our first priority is to get to Quatre and ensure his safety," Wufei said. "Kicking ass comes second, as tempting as it is."

"Yeah, I know that." Duo grinned. "Tro? You okay there, buddy?"

Trowa had taken a step backwards. "Quatre's in there but he's not himself." He swayed on his feet. "He doesn't want me to come any closer." Trowa shivered. It was cold. So very cold.

"We go now," Heero said. "Talking is not an option, and I'm not leaving."

"I didn't listen to him then and I won't now." Trowa shook his head and tried to focus, tried to rid himself of the memories plaguing him. He'd thrown himself before between Quatre and someone who would kill him without hesitation. This time would be no different.

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"Trowa, don't come any closer." Quatre's voice was calm, his tone flat. When Trowa didn't listen, Quatre's pleas grew more frantic.

"Quatre, what's going on?"

Quatre didn't know. Didn't want to know. He was shaking. Trowa needed to leave. Quatre still had nightmares about what had happened next. That was what this was. A bad dream. He would wake up and discover that none of it was real.

Outer space had gone mad. The only way to cure the disease was to destroy all the weapons. Those who opposed him were his enemies.

No! Trowa wasn't an enemy. He could never be an enemy.

"What's the matter?" Trowa asked. "This isn't like you."

"It /is/ like me. You just don't know that side of me," Quatre wanted to scream. Even now, ten years later there were parts of himself he kept hidden from Trowa. Shadows he didn't dare let his partner see, although he suspected Trowa knew of their existence.

"Goodbye, Heero," Quatre said, preparing to fire.

He couldn't do this. He wouldn't do this. Not again.

But the past couldn't be undone.

"Trowa!"

Quatre fired. Trowa dived in between Wing Zero and Heero's suit.

It was too late. Quatre struggled against his restraints. He screamed Trowa's name again, knowing that it was too late. It was always too late.

"Trowa!" The scream echoed through the building. Trowa tried to shake off the hand on his shoulder. Heero was preventing him from going to Quatre.

"Rushing in isn't going to help him." Heero's voice was calm.

"Let me go," Trowa growled, glaring at him. "We have to save Quatre. I don't care what happens to me."

"Quatre does," Heero said. "If something happened to you he would never forgive himself."

"I for one, wouldn't want to be the one to tell him." Duo shuddered. "Heero's right, Tro. We need to do execute this mission properly."

"Nice choice of words," Wufei muttered.

Trowa struggled against Heero's grip. "I don't care," he repeated. "Don't you realise the mistake you're making?" He was shaking, desperation and anger clouding his judgement. They weren't redundant; their battles weren't meaningless. All this wasn't for nothing.

"Breathe, Trowa," Wufei said. "You need to be calm. This isn't you. You're too close." He glanced between Heero and Trowa, his voice even. "Breathe in slowly, focus on the calm. You can't help Quatre if you can't think clearly. Your emotions are clouding your judgement."

"They aren't my emotions," Trowa said flatly, knowing that he spoke the truth, yet unable to break free of them. He rubbed at his chest, trying to ease the pain. "Quatre's dying. I've killed him. Don't worry about me. Save him."

Heero frowned and shook his head. "What the hell?" he muttered.

"What is it?" Duo asked, pulling his jacket around him. The rain was heavy now, and the doorway in which they were sheltered wasn't adequate protection against the cold wind.

"I've heard this before." Heero stared at Trowa. "Those aren't your words, Trowa. They're Quatre's."

"Huh?" Duo stared at Heero as though he'd grown another head. "But Quatre's in there." He jerked his thumb towards the building in front of them.

"Quatre and I fought when he was piloting ZERO and he argued with me to leave him to save Trowa." Heero's voice was hoarse. "Those were the words he used." He shook his head again, his expression blank. "I told Quatre that if Trowa died, it was because he had killed him."

"You told him what?" Trowa gripped Heero's collar. "Do you know how many times he's called out for you to let him go in his sleep? How many nightmares he's had over what happened? How the hell could you do that to him? How?" He shook his head, trying to clear it. It was the past. It couldn't be changed. He'd dealt with this. Heero had done what was necessary at the time.

"Control yourselves," Wufei snapped. "Whatever is happening to Quatre is affecting you." He glanced between them. "Both of you." His brow creased into a frown. "Heart and soul of outer space," he murmured. "Interesting."

"We'll sort this out later, guys." Duo stepped between Heero and Trowa. "Quatre's in there, and he's running out of time. Focus on the mission." He clicked the safety off his gun. "This isn't like you at all, Heero, and it sure as hell isn't like Trowa. I'm with Wufei. Whatever's going down in there is screwing with both of you."

"I'm sorry," Trowa muttered, diverting his gaze away from his friends. What the hell was wrong with him? He had always prided himself in staying in control. If Quatre died, it would be his fault. If Quatre died…

"We're going in," Trowa said. Wufei gave him a concerned look, but Trowa gave him a curt nod. "I'm fine. I'll be fine." He paused, his voice even. "If that happens again, you are to use any means necessary to finish this mission. If I become a liability deal with me as such."

"No way in hell," Duo growled. "Whatever this shit is, we'll deal with it. I'm not losing any more friends. Even if I have to knock your heads together and drag you out afterwards, all of us are getting out of this, Quatre included. Got it?"

"It doesn't pay to argue with him when he's in this kind of mood," Heero said. "It won't happen again."

"Damn sure it won't," Duo said under his breath. "Now let's play nice and go kick some ass." He gave them a wink and moved out.

Wufei groaned and rolled his eyes. "It's all about the ass kicking, with you, isn't it?" He gave Trowa and Heero a glare. "You heard what he said. Play nice and kick ass. Any problems like we just had, deal with them or remove yourself from the play. Got it?"

"Affirmative, 05," Heero said coldly. He followed Duo into the darkness.

"Loud and clear," Trowa replied, taking several deep breaths and exhaling slowly. "Let's move out." Focus. He had to stay focused, no matter what happened. He was a soldier. Soldiers didn't let emotions prevent them from carrying out their mission. Trowa wondered, not for the first time, how the hell Quatre had coped with the backlash from his empathic abilities during the war. The few things Quatre had let slip – being able to feel his enemies die, sensing the hatred towards the Gundam pilots from those they opposed – had only served to increase Trowa's opinion of his partner.

The building where Quatre was being held was in semi-darkness, a light burning in one of the rooms pinpointing his location. Their opponents had made this too easy. Duo held up four fingers in the dim light and then two more. The other pilots nodded, signaling that they understood the plan of action. Even after all this time, it was so very easy to slip back into the way things had been, to forget the passing of time and take back the roles they had never really abandoned. To the outside world, they were now civilians, but Trowa knew that was just a façade. He would never truly escape his past, none of them would.

Edging forward, Trowa took a moment to examine the set up of the room. Once they moved things would happen very quickly, and there would be no time or margin for error. As Duo had indicated, there were four men in the room. Three of them were sitting around a small table drinking coffee.

A groan from the corner made Trowa clench his fists. Quatre was lying on a makeshift bed made from a mattress on the floor. He was pale and sweating, his hair plastered to his forehead. His head moved from side to side, and he struggled weakly against his restraints. "Stop it please, Dorothy," he muttered, his voice cutting across the silence of the room.

Dorothy? Trowa frowned, trying to make sense of what Quatre had said. He put his hand to his head. It hurt. He could feel something, something he'd felt before. No, something Quatre had felt before. /Hold on, Quatre/ he thought/I'm coming./

"I say we kill him now." One of the men put his cup down on the table with a crash. "The longer we keep him alive, the more of a liability he is."

"The plan wasn't to kill him." His companion glared at him, running his hand through greasy hair. "I, for one, don't want Gundam pilots after me. I've seen what those guys are capable of."

The third man, well built with blond hair, snorted. "He's a traitor. He needs to be made an example of. I'm with John. It's dangerous keeping him alive." He gestured towards Quatre. "Rob, are you sure you know what you're doing with those drugs? The idea was to sedate him so that he wouldn't be any trouble. I told you we shouldn't snatch Winner but go for his partner."

Rob snorted. He was crouching beside Quatre, adjusting the flow of the drip. "Good job we didn't listen to that idea. We still would have ended up with one Gundam pilot here, and another one pissed off and after us." He shook his head. "I say we cut our losses and run. I can give him a big enough dose of the stuff to make sure he never wakes up again. Problem solved."

"Please, Trowa, leave me and save her." Quatre opened his eyes and looked at Trowa directly, his face creased in pain. Trowa sent comfort and love through their link and rubbed absently at his side. Quatre's captors didn't even bother to glance over at him; their reaction was more of annoyance if anything.

"Oh shit," muttered John. "Here we go again." He looked over at Rob. "Can't you get him to shut the fuck up?"

The four men looked at Quatre and then at each other. They still hadn't noticed that they had company. "Brian?" said John. "We're waiting on your vote. I know the plan wasn't to kill him, you've already said that, but things have changed. When we snatched him we didn't know we were dealing with a Gundam pilot. Alan's right. He's a traitor and we need to make an example of him." He looked over at Quatre again and his mouth pursed into a thin line. "Either make sure he never wakes up, or wake him up and let him know exactly what we do think of traitors before we kill him. It's what he deserves."

"Like hell," Duo said, stepping into the light. He aimed his gun at them. "You have no right to judge him, to judge any of us. Quatre is no traitor, he's one of the kindest, most caring guys I know." His voice took on a harder tone. "Except when you fuck with his friends."

"What the ..?" The four men were on their feet immediately, weapons in their hands. "Four against one," Alan, the blond, continued with a smirk. "Drop your weapon."

"Drop yours," Heero said coolly, joining Duo. "You should have listened to your friend. You really /don't/ want Gundam pilots after you."

"It's too late for that, 01." Wufei took a step closer to the men. "There isn't anywhere these men can run where we won't find them." He shook his head in mock sadness. "They attempted to take out one of our own. I say we make sure they never get the chance to try it again."

"He's a traitor!" said Rob, in a calm voice. "He might have been one of your own once, but he's betrayed your ideals."

"Don't you dare talk about him like that." Trowa pushed past his friends. "My friends might be more controlled than I am at present, but I suggest you don't piss them off any more than you have already." His voice was shaking and it was becoming harder to control his anger. "I'm going to check on my husband now. Move, and one of our friends will make sure you never do so again."

He walked over to the bed and began to remove the drip and Quatre's restraints. Quatre's eyes fluttered open again and he gave Trowa a smile. "We did it," he said. "We've saved the Earth. Heero's stopped Libra." Quatre gasped, his hand going to his side. "It's still bleeding. Trowa, I can't get rid of the blood, it's everywhere."

"You're okay, Cat," Trowa told him, pulling him close. "You'll be okay." He could feel the darkness again, pulling at him, calling him, calling them both. "You're safe. It's in the past, it's all over." Pieces of puzzle locked into place and Trowa knew where Quatre had been.

"I'm sorry," Quatre said. "I wanted to see if we had a future. I should have told you earlier and now it's too late."

"It's not too late," Trowa whispered. "It's over, Cat," he repeated. "It's over."

The single shot made him flinch, but Quatre didn't react. His eyes were closing again; he kept holding his side. "So much blood," his whispered. "So much blood."

"Sorry," said Duo. "The idiot moved." One of Quatre's captors was whimpering, and clutching his leg. The others were perfectly still and very pale. "Oops," continued Duo, casually. "Next time I'll do better. Promise."

Quatre went limp in Trowa's arms. His breathing was shallow. "Wufei," Trowa yelled. "Get over here. I need help."

Wufei was by his side in an instant. He took Quatre's wrist in his hand and frowned, his expression going blank as he spoke into his radio. "We need an ambulance," he told Relena. "Tell them to hurry."

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End of Chapter Four

TBC


	5. Epilogue

Wake in the Dream (5/5)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – angst, drama, action.

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2, 5xR

Summary: Past and present merge after Quatre is kidnapped. Can his friends rescue him in time?

Archive: http/ dryerspace dot fanworkrecs dot com

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Author's notes: This is written for the 10 year anniversary contest at Gundam Wing Universe - http/

Thanks to: haraamis and Bast for beta reading, Misanagi for prodding for more as I was writing. Plus all those who made comments and encouraged along the way. You know who you are…

Comments to: anne at fanwork recs dot com

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Quatre opened his eyes and groaned. He had a terrible headache, and he felt tired. So very tired. He closed his eyes again, hoping that it would help.

Someone moved against him, a hand tightening around his own, and he instinctively squeezed back. "It's okay, Trowa," Quatre whispered, moving his other hand to stroke his friend's hair. He didn't have to see to know where Trowa was - he could feel his breath warm against his neck – or to know that Trowa was there. His empathic signature was intertwined with Quatre's own and Quatre didn't want to imagine being without it.

That was odd. Quatre pulled at whatever prevented his hand from going further and muttered under his breath. He forced himself to open his eyes and focus on his surroundings. They'd won the battle. Heero had prevented Libra from falling. Why would he be restrained? It didn't make sense.

The room didn't look right. This wasn't Peacemillion. Quatre tried to ignore his rising panic. Where was he? What the hell was going on? He was about to shake Trowa, to tell him to wake up, but stopped.

"Get a grip, Winner," he muttered. He was a Gundam pilot, he shouldn't be reacting like this. If the enemy had them, he would be playing straight into their hands by not staying calm. Quatre pulled at his restraint again, the long plastic tubing jerking against the needle inserted into the back of his hand.

Memories flooded his mind, and for a brief moment he was drowning in them again. He'd been drugged and restrained, relived his past, forced to remember what he'd spent ten years trying to forget.

The last thing he remembered was that final battle for Libra. Trowa had helped him from his Gundam, but Quatre had already been bleeding for too long. He'd tried to hang on, to stay conscious long enough to fight but by the time victory was theirs, he had lost too much blood.

He glanced down at his side, shifted the shirt of the pajamas someone had dressed him in, but there was no blood, just the scar he had carried for the past ten years. Had it just been part of the dream? Trowa had been there, but then Trowa was always in his dreams, in his memories. He was Quatre's life-line, his anchor. Trowa's presence illuminated the path between darkness and light.

Life and death.

Dream and reality.

They had merged into one, and he still wasn't sure where he was. Caught up in the dreamscape, finally awake, or trapped in a weird mixture of the two? The memories had been so real, yet he hadn't be able to change anything that had happened, just observe and watch himself and those he cared about repeat their mistakes in full horrific detail.

Coming to a decision, he leaned over and whispered in Trowa's ear. "Trowa, wake up." Quatre had done this before, had woken in a hospital room with Trowa curled around him asleep. But this time the room looked different, and Trowa appeared to be in his mid twenties, rather than the teenager of Quatre's dreams. Those facts gave him hope.

"Quatre?" Trowa's initial grogginess disappeared quickly to be replaced by a smile of relief. "You're awake," he whispered, "you're awake." Trowa put his arms around Quatre and held him tightly, kissing him on the cheek, on the forehead, on the lips. He was shaking. "I thought I'd lost you."

Quatre put his finger to Trowa's lips and then replaced it with his mouth, kissing him thoroughly. Trowa responded in kind, threading his fingers through Quatre's hair. The kiss was desperate rather than romantic, a seeking of truth, a confirmation of reality. When they finally pulled apart, Trowa placed his hand on Quatre's heart. "This is real. I'm real. Don't worry, you're home."

"How did you know?" Quatre attempted to pull himself into a sitting position, but Trowa shook his head and lowered Quatre back onto the pillow.

"I know you," Trowa said. His smile had a tinge of sadness to it, and Quatre wondered what he was missing. "I love you." He ruffled Quatre's hair. He met Quatre's eyes and seemed to be searching for something. Quatre hoped it was something he could give.

"Love you too," Quatre murmured, not liking Trowa's frown. "What happened?" He pointed to the drip. "I don't remember much, and what I do remember…" His voice trailed off and he shivered.

Trowa was quiet for a moment. "Those men who kidnapped you stole some experimental drugs." He paused. Quatre winced, feeling his pain and knowing that he was, in some way, responsible. "They had no idea what they had taken." Trowa shook his head. He was angry. "They could have killed you. Hell, they nearly did."

"What kind of experimental drugs?" Quatre squeezed Trowa's hand; his husband wasn't doing a very good job in hiding or controlling his emotions.

When Trowa spoke it was in a firm tone, but his voice still shook. "The lab they were stolen from…" He swallowed. "The drugs were designed to enhance a newtype's abilities, but there was a flaw." Trowa stroked the back of Quatre's hand; his expression was grim.

"Flaw?" Quatre decided to query one thing at a time. How had these people known he was a newtype? Trowa had said that his captors had no idea what they had taken, but Quatre didn't believe in coincidences. He still didn't know why he had been targeted, but he had presumed it was either because of his position with WEI, his wealth, or his past as a Gundam pilot.

"So far their subjects have all died within thirty six hours," Trowa explained quietly. "You were very lucky."

"I don't believe in luck," Quatre was already several steps ahead, trying to put together the pieces of an incomplete puzzle. While he had been trapped in that nightmare, he had been constantly reaching out for Trowa, sensing him on the edge of his awareness. Quatre had not been alone, Trowa had been part of his memories, searching for him, knowing what…

Quatre stopped, his thoughts derailing with a sudden certainty. "You knew," he said. "It wasn't just that you know /me/. You knew where I was, what I was experiencing." He tried to sound calm but couldn't prevent the hint of accusation slipping into his voice.

Before Trowa could answer, there was a knock at the door. Duo entered without waiting for an answer, a cup of coffee in one hand. "Sleeping Beauty awakes," he said with a grin. "You had us all worried, Cat." Duo gave Trowa a nudge and handed him the coffee. "You guys need to talk; I'll see if I can hold off the medical staff for a while to give you some space, okay?"

"That would be appreciated, thank you, Duo." Trowa took a sip of his coffee then pulled a face. "You forgot the sugar," he complained.

"Did I?" Duo never had been any good at feigning innocence, at least from Quatre's point of view. Of course, Duo figured that was because it took an expert to know an expert, but Quatre had merely snorted at that theory.

"Yes, you did." Trowa glared at him. Duo and Trowa had a long running argument that Trowa was too fond of sugar, and that it ruined the taste of most drinks. Duo refused to add it whenever he made coffee, and Trowa always complained about it. Quatre grinned. Yes, this was most definitely reality. His lover and their friends had developed a few quirks over the years, some amusing, some as annoying as hell.

Duo raised his hands in mock surrender. "Oops," he said. "I'm going to give your man a hug, and then I'm out of here." Duo grinned. "Before you run out of ammo."

"I don't run out of ammo anymore, Duo." Trowa snorted.

"No, he certainly doesn't." Quatre smirked. "I can vouch for that."

"Thanks, Cat," Duo said. "Nice to know this hasn't affected your inner pervert." He leaned over the bed, ignoring the look Trowa was giving him. Duo took a certain degree of delight in teasing Trowa, and Quatre didn't have the heart to tell him that Trowa only played along because he knew Duo enjoyed it.

Quatre leaned into Duo's embrace. "Love you too," he murmured.

"Talk to Trowa," Duo whispered into his ear. "He's been through hell." Duo's tone grew serious after he pulled away. "Heero's been doing more hacking." He glanced between them. "Wufei figures one of the reasons Quatre survived this was because this empathic shit goes both ways between you two. He's going to talk to you about it later, when you've both had time to recover properly. Listen to him, okay?"

"Okay," said Quatre, with no intention of doing so until he found out just what Duo was referring to. Quatre watched Trowa's reaction carefully, sending out tendrils along their empathic connection in order to gauge his husband's reaction more fully. Trowa looked tired, his eyes were red, his clothing rumpled. There was a slight stubble on his chin and he didn't appear to have shaved for at least a couple of days.

"Okay." Trowa echoed Quatre's words, forcing a smile. "I'll let you know when we're ready for the doctors. Thank you." He drained his cup and handed it back to Duo. "For the coffee too."

"Anytime," Duo said, giving them both a wave, his mood changing to something lighter as though he had flicked an invisible switch. Quatre would talk to him properly later, but for the moment his concern was for Trowa.

"Duo?" Quatre remembered the exact wording of what Duo had said.

"Yeah?" Duo turned at the doorway to the room.

"Wufei's theory. What was the other reason he thought I survived?"

"We're Gundam pilots." Duo shrugged. "Our reactions aren't the norm, especially where drugs are concerned. Hey, it's just a theory, but so is all of this for now. Until you guys are ready to do something further, that's all we've got." He opened the door. "One thing at a time, yeah? Sort yourselves out, then we'll discuss sorting out the rest of this crap. If you need us, we'll be there."

"Thank you," said Quatre quietly. They were family, each supporting the others when needed. That was the way it had been since the war, and the way it would always be.

"Anytime," Duo replied, and then he was gone.

"You knew what I was going through, didn't you?" Quatre gestured for Trowa to move closer.

"We can discuss that later," Trowa placed his arms around Quatre and leaned back on the pillows with him. "There's something else I want to say, need to say first."

Quatre sighed. He knew that he wouldn't like whatever it was Trowa wanted to say, but if it was important, he would listen. He owed Trowa that much. It didn't mean that he wouldn't get an answer to his question though. Trowa might be stubborn, but Quatre had never let that stand in his way. Their relationship was based on give and take. This time Quatre would give, but next time it would be Trowa's turn.

"We need to reassess our priorities in life." Trowa's voice was firm, but Quatre could feel his concern. "Or, more to the point, you need to take a break. A long break."

"I have responsibilities," Quatre said quietly. A holiday at the moment, although tempting, was quite out of the question. People relied on him to keep things running smoothly. He had spent too much time, too much energy trying to coax his father's firm into the future, a future his father would have been proud of. They were achieving great things, changing the world without having to shed blood to do so.

"You need to stop fighting." Trowa grasped Quatre's chin between his fingers and forced Quatre to look at him. Quatre tried to turn away, but Trowa wouldn't let him.

"The war is over." Quatre tried to keep his voice low. "I'm not fighting anymore. I'm working towards a better future. We've talked about this before."

Trowa shook his head. "You've never left the war behind. You're still fighting, not with Gundams, but still fighting." His eyes were cold, yet sad. Quatre rubbed absently at his chest. "Think about it, Quatre. Why did those drugs trigger memories of the war? Why not something else?"

"Because I can't forget." Quatre mumbled the words, not wanting to admit to them. "They won't let me forget. I have to fight to make things right. Blood isn't the answer, war isn't the answer." He needed to believe that they weren't the answer, that there were other more peaceful ways of achieving what needed to be done. Relena was sure there were, Quatre agreed in principle, but watching the way the political situation was slipping back slowly but surely towards what they had tried to prevent, he couldn't rid himself of his doubts.

Trowa caught Quatre's hand mid motion, their joined hands paused over Quatre's heart. "Part of you doesn't want to forget." Trowa's voice wasn't as firm as it had been. "It drives you, it always has. You're burying yourself in your work, trying to make up for the mistakes you've made." He grew very quiet, and Quatre shivered. "I've been watching you for the past few months. You're tired, you have no time for the things that used to bring you joy, and when you sleep, your dreams aren't pleasant. These drugs might have triggered memories, but those memories are never very far away from you. The drugs just made it more difficult for you to hide from them."

"I don't hide," Quatre protested. "I'm not a coward. I know I've made mistakes. I've never said I didn't."

"You've done a lot of good things too." Trowa managed a small smile. "But it's time to let things go and look after yourself for a change. Look after us." He ran the fingers of his free hand through Quatre's hair. Trowa had always had a thing for Quatre's hair. "We've already saved the world and the colonies once. We almost lost each other forever in the process." There was a moment's silence. "And I'll be damned if I'm prepared to go through it again."

Quatre opened his mouth to speak but Trowa shook his head. "I haven't finished yet," he said. "I've been quiet for way too long, and you're not going to interrupt me until I'm done." Quatre stared at him for a moment then nodded. Trowa very rarely spoke like this, but when he did it was important to listen.

"You're not the only one with nightmares. I relive pieces of my past as well." Trowa stroked Quatre's hand. Quatre wasn't sure his husband was even aware of what he was doing. He seemed as lost in memories as Quatre had been during the past few days. "You dream about ZERO, about your father's death. I dream about Libra. I know you are in trouble, and I can't get to you in time. I look for you, feel you calling me, yet I'm always too late. You're injured, yet you tell me not to worry. We fight, win the battle. I go to Sandrock, and you're lying there, still." Trowa took a deep breath. Quatre could feel the pain it was costing him to put this into words. "Lifeless. All that blood. I vowed that I would never spend another night watching you in a hospital bed like that again."

"I'm sorry." Quatre wasn't sure what else to say. He might have relived his nightmares over the past few days, but at least it had been as part of a drug induced dream landscape. Trowa had been forced to face his fears in reality.

"This wasn't your fault." Trowa sighed. "You can't blame yourself for the idiots who put you through this." He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "We both have things in our pasts we need to come to terms with, and we've always been stronger together than apart. I don't want us to be apart, Quatre. I love you."

"I don't want us to be apart either, Trowa." Quatre stared into Trowa's eyes, seeing an echo of himself reflected there. "I'm sorry. I guess I haven't dealt with life as well as I'd thought I'd had."

"Neither of us is perfect, Cat," Trowa said. "But together, maybe we have a chance of dealing with what we can't alone. I'm not prepared to watch you destroy yourself. I thought that if I left you to deal with it, you would in time. I was wrong." Trowa shrugged, but the action didn't reflect his frustration.

"I'm sorry," Quatre said again, knowing how lame it sounded.

"Don't say you're sorry unless you're prepared to do something about it." Trowa frowned. "Wufei said that talking wasn't the risk, action is. I can't keep going on words, on spoken apologies. I've chosen the path I want to take." Quatre could feel Trowa's fear. It was laced with a hope that Quatre knew he would not forgive himself for shattering. "You need to do the same."

Quatre took a few moments before answering. "I can't promise to be able to do what you're asking." He couldn't look at Trowa, feeling his reaction hurt enough. "But," Quatre continued, "I can promise to try." He licked his lips. They were dry.

"That's all I'm asking," Trowa said, relief flooding their empathic link. "Action, not words. If we fail, we get back on and try again until we get it right, however long it takes. I don't want to go back to watching you destroy yourself. I refuse to do that."

"I wouldn't want you to," Quatre said softly. He leaned over and kissed Trowa gently. "During the last few days I've relived my past. It was a reminder of my mistakes. Maybe it's a chance to learn and move forward?" What he had been doing wasn't working, it was time to try something else. Quatre had told his father that running away wasn't the answer, and yet on many levels it was what he was still doing himself.

"I'd like that." Trowa returned the kiss and put his arms around Quatre, holding him close. "Happy Anniversary."

Quatre smiled at him. It was ten years today that they had first met, Gundam pilots fighting so that others didn't have to. Now it was time for them to stop fighting, to find their own peace. "Happy Anniversary, Trowa."

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Fin


End file.
